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An Old 
Sweetheart of Mine 



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Digitized by the Internet Archive 
in 2011 with funding from 
The Library of Congress 



http://www.archive.org/details/oldsweetheartofm01rile 



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An Old 
Sweetheart of Mine 

James Whitcomb Riley 

Drawings by 

Howard Chandler Christy 



Decorations by 
Virginia Keep 



The Bobbs-Merrill Company 
Publishers j y, Indianapolis 



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Copyright, 1 888-1 899— 1902 
James Whitcomb Riley 

Copyright, 1 902 
The Bowen-Merrill Company 



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PRESS OF 

BRAUNWORTH & CO. 

BOOKBINDERS AND PRINTERS 

BROOKLYN, N. Y. 



An Old 

Sweetheart of Mine 



Inscribed 

To GEORGE C. HITT 

The beginning of whose steadfast friendship was 
marked by the first publication of these verses 
which now, expanded by writer, honored by 
publisher and masterfully graced by artist, seem 
to be a worthier symbol of the author's grateful 
and affectionate regard for his earliest friend 



List of Illustrations 



I Frontispiece— An Old Sweetheart of Mine. 

II A fair, illusive vision that would vanish 

into air 

III The then of changeless sunny days — The 

now of shower and shine 

IV The old bookshelves and prints along the 

wall 

' V I find the smiling features of an old sweet- 
heart of mine 

VI Its fate with my tobacco and to vanish 

with the smoke 






List of Illustrations 



VII When my truant fancies wander with that 
old sweetheart of mine 

VIII The voices of my children and the mother 
as she sings 

- IX For I find an extra flavor in Memory's 
mellow wine 

- X O childhood days enchanted ! O the magic 
of the spring 

XI To — smile, behind my lesson, at that old 
sweetheart of mine 

- XII A face of lily-beauty, with a form of airy 
grace 



List of Illustrations 



XIII When first I kissed her, and she answered 

the caress 

XIV I slipped the apple in it — and the teacher 

didn't know 

J XV She gave me her photography and printed 
"Ever Thine" 

XVI And again I feel the pressure of her 
slender little hand 

M XVII Where the vines were ever fruited, and 
the weather ever fine 

XVIII And she my faithful sweetheart till the 
golden hair was gray 

XIX The door is softly opened, and — my wife 
is standing there 






The ordered intermingling 

of the real and the dream^ — 
The mill above the river , 

and the mist above the stream; 
The life of ceaseless labor ^ 

brave with song and cheery call- 
The radiant skies of evening , 

with its rainbow o'er us all. 



An Old Sweetheart of Mine! — Is this 
her presence here with me, 

Or but a vain creation of 
a lover's memory? 



A fair, illusive vision 

that would vanish into air 
Dared I even touch the silence 

with the whisper of a prayer? 










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Nay, let me then believe in all 
the blended false and true — 

The semblance of the old love 
and the substance of the new? 



The then of changeless sunny days- 
the now of shower and shine — 

But Love forever smiling, — 
as that old sweetheart of mine. 



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This ever-restful sense of home, 
though shouts ring in the hall 

The easy-chair — the old bookshelves 
and prints along the wall; 



The rare Habanas in their box, 
or gaunt churchwarden-stem 

That often wags, above the jar, 
derisively at them. 



As one who cons at evening 
o'er an album, all alone, 

And muses on the faces 

of the friends that he has known, 



So I turn the leaves of Fancy, 
till, in shadowy design, 

I find the smiling features of 
an old sweetheart of mine. 






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The lamplight seems to glimmer 
with a flicker of surprise, 

As I turn it low — to rest me 
of the dazzle in my eyes, 



And light my pipe in silence, 
save a sigh that seems to yoke 

Its fate with my tobacco 

and to vanish with the smoke. 




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'Tis a fragrant retrospection, — 
for the loving thoughts that start 

Into being are like perfume 

from the blossom of the heart; 



And to dream the old dreams over 

is a luxury divine — 
When my truant fancies wander 

with that old sweetheart of mine. 




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Though I hear beneath my study, 
like a fluttering of wings, 

The voices of my children 

and the mother as she sings — 



I feel no twinge of conscience 
to deny me any theme 

When Care has cast her anchor 
In the harbor of a dream — 



In fact, to speak in earnest, 
I believe it adds a charm 

To spice the good a trifle 
with a little dust of harm,- 



For I find an extra flavor 
in Memory's mellow wine 

That makes me drink the deeper 
to that old sweetheart of mine. 



O Childhood-days enchanted! 

O the magic of the Spring! — 
With all green boughs to blossom white, 

and all bluebirds to sing! 



When all the air, to toss and quaff, 

made life a jubilee 
And changed the children's song and 

laugh to shrieks of ecstasy. 



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With eyes half closed in clouds that ooze 

from lips that taste, as well, 
The peppermint and cinnamon, 

I hear the old School-bell, 



And from "Recess" romp in again 
from "Blackman's" broken line, 

To — smile, behind my "lesson", 
at that old sweetheart of mine. 




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A face of lily-beauty, 

with a form of airy grace, 

Floats out of my tobacco 

as the "Genii" from the vase; 



And I thrill beneath the glances 
of a pair of azure eyes 

As glowing as the summer 
and as tender as the skies. 





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I can see the pink sunbonnet 
and the little, checkered dress 

She wore when first I kissed her 
and she answered the caress 



With the written declaration that, 

"As surely as the vine 
Grew 'round the stump," she loved me — 

that old sweetheart of mine. 





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Again I make her presents, 
in a really helpless way, — 

The big " Rhode Island Greening" — 
(I was hungry too, that day!) — 



But I follow her from Spelling, 
with her hand behind her — so— 

And I slip the apple in it — 

and the Teacher doesn't know! 




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I give my treasures to her — all,— 
my pencil — blue-and-red;- 

And, if little girls played marbles, 
mine should all be Aers, instead!- 



But she gave me her photograph, 
and printed "Ever Thine" 

Across the back — in blue-and-red — ■ 
that old sweetheart of mine! 








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And again I feel the pressure 
of her slender little hand, 

As we used to talk together 
of the future we had planned, 



When I should be a poet, 
and with nothing else to do 

But write the tender verses 
that she set the music to. . . , 




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When we should live together 

in a cozy little cot 
Hid in a nest of roses, 

with a fairy garden-spot, 



Where the vines were ever fruited 
and the weather ever fine, 

And the birds were ever singing 

for that old sweetheart of mine. • . • 




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When I should be her lover 

forever and a day, 
And she my faithful sweetheart 

till the golden hair was gray; 



And we should be so happy 

that when either' s lips were dumb 

They would not smile in Heaven 
till the other's kiss had come. 



But, ah! my dream is broken 
by a step upon the stair, 

And the door is softly opened, 
and — my wife is standing there: 




Yet with eagerness and rapture 
all my visions I resign, — 

To greet the living presence 
of that old sweetheart of mine. 




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HANDLE 
HRISTY 



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